


Jesus, Gonna Make You My Dyin' Bed

by KevinFreakinSolo_Bitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6651646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KevinFreakinSolo_Bitch/pseuds/KevinFreakinSolo_Bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam find comfort in each other's arms. </p>
<p>Fluff (with mild angst just warning ya)<br/>Implied Wincest<br/>Season 1-3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jesus, Gonna Make You My Dyin' Bed

Neither of them could remember the first time it happened. Sam had vague memories of when Dean had only a few months to live, before his heart would give out. Unable to sleep from the stress, he would creep over to Dean's bed at 2 am, sick with worry, and Dean would silently shift over, leaving room. Sam fit himself in the crevice his brother left, burying his face under Dean's armpit and holding his arms pressed close to his chest. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't comfortable, but it was what he needed. He was desperate for contact. Dean rolled over slightly and reached over, leaving a protective arm around his little brother. A small smile erupted from Sam's face as he closed his eyes. A moment of happiness. A simple pleasure amidst the chaos.

Dean thought it started a month after Jess died. Sam was whimpering in his sleep, grasping the sheets until his knuckles were white. In the light of the morning, he would have woken Sammy up, teased him, interrogated him. But in the twilight he knew better. He carefully pulled back the cheap wool blanket and slid into the small space Sam wasn't taking up. Dean's right leg hung off the side of the bed, threatening to pull him down if he moved an inch, but he didn't care. He pulled his brother in, wrapping his arms around Sam loosely. Sam muttered unintelligible protests. With soft shushes, he rested his chin on Sam's shoulder, and Sam quieted down. Dawn broke, and still Dean laid there, not moving. He couldn't fall back asleep until he was sure Sammy felt safe. He didn't feel tired though. He was content enough just listening to Sam's steady heartbeat, or watching his younger brother's broad chest rise and fall evenly with each deep breath. The look of calm made its influence on Dean, as he began to doze off.

 

What began as a one-off thing, a one time deal that would never leave those sleazy motels with them, soon became habit. They knew what they needed; Each other. Neither could sleep without the familiar weight of the other resting against themselves, their legs tangled, and the sheets bunched up at the foot of the bed. They didn't think it would last forever. Eventually, Sam would meet somebody or Dean would retire, but neither thought they would have to worry about that for years. But at least for now, Sam and Dean had each other.

 

* * * 

 

Only a few hours ago, Sam had watched his older brother get mauled by hellhounds. Sam laid awake, feeling so small in the queen-size bed, unused to how it felt to be alone. He forgot what it felt like to be alone. These past few years he had Dean by his side, keeping him safe. Before that... he was with Jess, keeping her safe. He hadn't stayed in a bed by himself since he was 18. And even then, Dean was still across the room. He chuckled weakly at himself, thinking how pathetic it was that he had never really spent a whole night by himself, in all 24 years of his life. He sat up in the bed, leaning on his elbows. He looked around the barren motel room, and the silence started to set in. He couldn't take the silence much longer. He reached over to the bedside and grabbed his phone. A lump in his throat, he dialed Dean's cell. After a couple of rings, it went to voicemail. A flood of relief washed over him as he heard his brother's voice fill the empty room. He laid back down, hugging his pillow tightly. Red indentations were left on his skin where the cheap stitching of the pillowcase met his arms. He held it tighter. It still felt wrong. He shakily pressed the call button again and shut his eyes. If he ignored the words, he could almost pretend Dean was still there. Not quite, but almost. He curled up, hitting the button over and over and over, hoping to fall asleep before his phone died.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. I'm still pretty new to posting my writing, so feedback would be much appreciated.  
> Oh and if you fancy, I have a destiel ficlet called Rainy Days.
> 
> thanks for reading :)


End file.
